Wait A Minute: I'm Not Supposed to BE Here!
by Ice-Eagle Y'siri
Summary: Falling into ME story-Emily is a writer-not someone magical. She can't wield swords or shoot pointy things at orcs, much less people. She likes LOTR, but not enough to be stuck there.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Wait a Minute...I'm Not Supposed to Be Here!

**Author**: Ice-Eagle Y'Siri

**Summary**:(Girl falling into ME story) Emily is a writer--not someone magical. She can't wield swords or shoot pointy things at orcs (much less people), just write fanfic. So why in the world did she get dropped into ME when she didn't even want to BE THERE?!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own LOTR or any other associated content, characters, plot, etc. Just Emily is mine.

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I really must be dead.

I can't think of any other explanation as to why I'm in ME right now. Seriously. One minute I'm writing on my computer (NOT EVEN A LOTR STORY, FOR GOD'S SAKE) and I suddenly develop a headache, so I go to get some Advil, and the next minute I'm in Middle Earth. I don't get it. Honestly.

What.

The.

Hell.

Note to self: Don't write stories in the dark and the only illumination is your computer monitor for extended periods of time ever. Again.

How do I know I'm here?

Well, I've got a party of three short people and one ruggedly dirty Ranger pointing their swords at me. You all thought I was going to say that Aragorn was handsome, didn't you? Um, no. Gag me with a spoon. If I'm here, I'm not going to destroy canon even more than I already have.

So. Back to me being in Middle Earth.

Oh, yeah. Sharp pointy things. Aimed. At. Me.

Cue shrieks and sprinting into God knows where from yours truly--except that Aragorn catches up with me. Great. Lovely. Fan-flipping-tastic.

Hear the sarcasm?

"Who are you? Why are you wearing those strange clothes?" Aragorn shakes my arm and I squeak. The hobbits were in the distance, but it was obvious by the ever growing crashes that they were getting closer as we're standing here, my back against a tree.

Which hurts a lot, by the way.

The people who write about being bashed against a tree because they're making out and stuff? Yeah, not that fun. Betcha they don't talk about the scratches and bruises, now do they?

"I don't know what I'm doing here. My name's Emily. Call me Em. And I'm wearing these clothes because they are normal dress from my world, for one, and I don't even know how I got here. What happened?"

"Strider, are you alright?" I roll my eyes and open my free hand (that isn't being crushed to death by Aragorn, anyway) to the Hobbits, "Look, can you all let me go? I'm unarmed and being held against a tree is exceedingly uncomfortable. Besides, your Ranger is fine--he's more likely to hurt me than the other way around."

I wince a little as he let me go and rapidly moved away from me--and then saw why. Belatedly. Pippin didn't stop when the other hobbits did and, well--

--let's just say that getting headbutted by one of the most dense-skulled hobbits in the books and the movie in the stomach is very, very, painful.

I swear and gasp somehow at the same time, then manage to push off the tree and lean a little on it for support. Good God and Jesus on a pogo stick, that _hurt_.

"Miss Emily, I'm so sorry! I didn't see where I was going and I thought you were going to hurt Strider," the subject of our discussion snorts, " and I didn't mean to, honestly--"

I ignore the fact that his statement is an oxymoron. Or hypocritical. All I know is that there is a word for what he just did, but I forget. Anyway.

I grin at the curly haired hobbit. Jeez, all of them looked like the cast from the movies, except much better looking. The hobbits were also much more huggable/cute/adorable. But not children. I wouldn't make that mistake.

"It's okay, mister--?"

"Took. Call me Pippin. Took is my last name, anyway. Ignore that. My real name is Peregrin, but I want you to call me Pippin. Or Pip--" his rambling babbling is cut off with a bop on the head by Merry,"Pip. Shut. Up. Hello, Miss Emily, I'm Meriadoc Brandybuck. Call me Merry."

"And I'm Samwise Gamgee, miss. Call me Sam. Strider, oughtn't you let her off by now? I don't see any kind of weapons on her person and really, what kind o' trouble could she cause now?"

The hobbits and I look expectantly (well, I was kind of glaring; come on, trees are NOT COMFORTABLE) at the ranger. At our expressions, he just sighs and lowers his sword from where he had held it in the general area of my face, "Fine. But we need to move on to Rivendell. It will be another couple of days-" he breaks off and looks at me measuringly, "-or a week, depending on how slowly or quickly she can travel in those....garments."

God, what a jerk. Of course I could keep up to them in what I was wearing. It wasn't like I was in a dress or something.

Lord and all the Saints forbid.

I'm wearing khaki pants and dark blue Nike sneakers. I'm also wearing a loose black long-sleeved shirt under a navy shirt that said: _Think: It's not illegal_ _yet_.

Yeah, I'm a real optimist when it comes to the population of the US of A.

I'm tall (think like 5 "9") with curly brown hair (currently pulled into a sectioned ponytail **[1]**) and brown eyes. My looks were plain, which made it easy to slip away from unwanted company easily...which happened to be a lot, back at home.

I raise an eyebrow, "Not to like totally rain on your parade or anything--" one of the hobbits mouths 'rain on your parade' and I smirk, " But my clothes will probably last enough for the journey. And they're comfortable. And practical. I won't be caught dead in a dress."

Aragorn motions me over and says as we start walking, "I'm watching you. We stop at dusk."

I blink, "Okay."

So we walk. And stare at trees. And plants. And mud.

Lots and lots of mud.

And walk.

And walk it out some more...

Do it how you do it gonna walk it out...

"What?"

"Oh, sorry. Nothing, Pippin."

* * *

**Hello! Was it horrible? Did it suck just awfully?**

**I just decided to do this completely out of nowhere. Her (Emily's) writing will be mentioned in the next chapter.**

**[1] A sectioned ponytail is a ponytail with more than one holder. Just place each holder (depending on how long your hair is) an inch and a half or two farther down the first hair tie. It's a pretty result. I figured out how to use it b/c my hair is so thick and always gets in my way if I only use one hair tie.**

**Constructive criticism is always appreciated. No flames, of course.**

**Regards,**

**Ice  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**Title**: Wait a Minute...I'm Not Supposed to Be Here!

**Author**: Ice-Eagle Y'Siri

**Summary**:(Girl falling into ME story) Emily is a writer--not someone magical. She can't wield swords or shoot pointy things at orcs (much less people), just write fanfic. So why in the world did she get dropped into ME when she didn't even want to BE THERE?!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own LOTR or any other associated content, characters, plot, etc. Just Emily is mine. And future OCs. HAH. I HAVE SUCKED YOU IN!!  
However, I do NOT CLAIM Katerina and Rafael. You will see why when you read on.

**So I'm updating-------yeah.  
**

**Um.**

**Read and enjoy?**

**Don't forget to review!

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**

One thing (well, two) that all Fanfiction writers back home everywhere need to know:

Elves are the hottest things on the planet.

And walking is excruciatingly boring.

Even if you're with famed book characters. Trust me. It gets really tiresome after a while. Sooner or later you'll be playing Solitaire in your head or thinking up evil-ish plots of Doom and Destruction. Then when you cackle once too many Aragorn thinks that a good jog will snap you out of it when you stop to camp and the Hobbits just laugh. Not fun.

But Elves are stunning.

Swear to God.

I don't care if you like Hobbits, or if you crush on Aragorn-Mr-Sulking-Ranger-King (or 'Boromir-I'm-studly' or 'Faramir-I'm-Ignored-But-Awesome'), or even if you have something for Dwarves (don't get me wrong; I love Gimli, but dude. Too much facial hair). Elves are the most beautiful beings on the planet.

Except maybe for Valar. Or Maia.

But Gandalf doesn't count. He's old. And human in his current form. And I doubt I'll see a Valar.

Anyway.

Elves are walking poetry.

Yeah, I'm gonna die when I see Galadriel.

--------------~~~~~~~~--------------

"You didn't tell me of your female companion in your sending, Estel."

That's the first thing that Lord Elrond says as we walk through the gate.

The twins (I think they're Elrond's; they look a lot like him, scarily enough) grin from farther behind their father.

"Yeah," the one on the left says, "You will make Arwen jealous."

I raise an eyebrow, "Um. Excuse me? You think that I'm actually attracted to Strider over here? Think again, buddies."

Both of them cock their heads at me, "My dear child, _everyone _is attracted to Aragorn," comments the twin on the right, this time, "He's got a certain, shall we say, ruggedly regal air about him."

"I like that," Pippin says, "Ruggedly regal. Ruggedly regal. Ruggedly regal ruggedly regalruggedlyregal--Merry, try saying _that _five times fast."

"Pip," Merry says as he stares in wonder at Imladris, "Shut up and look. Hey, where's the food?"

"And Frodo?" Sam looks frantic, but relaxes into wonder as he stares at the Elves.

"We just encountered her three days ago, Lord Elrond. She is....different."

I shrug my shoulders, ignoring the three elves and Dunedain, follow the hobbits, and really take in Rivendell.

---------~~~~~~~---------

Then sit on the ground.

Wow. When I die, I want heaven to look like this. It's beautiful. It's so magical looking I want to cry.

My God.

There are no words.

--------~~~~~~~----------

My clothes, however, are seriously torn up. I wasn't lying when I said they'd last, but now they (and ME, more importantly) are filthy.

"Don't," A voice says from behind me.

I yelp as I stand. Ooops. I lost the hobbits. Now there's some Elven woman staring at me.

Wait.

No.

It's Arwen. And she's smiling at me. People who think she looks amazing in the movies? Yeah. Multiply that by, like, ten, and you've got the real deal.

My life is complete. I grin back at her as I turn "Don't do what? Feel bad because I'm dirty and grimy from traveling?"

Arwen Udomiel nods at me and I wanna look like a total sap but stop myself. She's so ungodly amazing it's hard to believe. I would do anything to keep her happy. Then again, I guess whoever she flashes that smile at feels the same.

She holds out a hand, "Come. I will get you some new clothes. Father wishes you to look---"

I take it and finish with a snort of amusement, "Presentable. Yes, yes, let's go."

"Indeed. My lady, you must make that--thing--look good. My lord would absolutely hate to see such an ugly trollop wandering the corridors, although I suspect even if you did clean it it would look only _marginally _less hideous."

I look up at the disgustingly attractive couple of humans in front of me--I guess they're half-Elven, considering their height. Then I saw their hair.

Deep purple on the girl, dark blue for the boy.

And their eyes.

They kept changing colors and _not _normal hazel changing colors. My God.

A Mary-Sue and a Gary-Stu.

I open my mouth and Arwen steamrolls over my words, "Do not presume to know my father's will, Katerina, Rafael. You are tolerated until whatever business you came for here is completed."

She pulls me past them and I gape, "What the hell? Lady Arwen--"

"--Arwen, Emily--"

"--Fine, Arwen, what in the name of all that is holy are they doing here? How do you know my name?"

"I know not," she says grimly, "But I hope they leave very, very, soon. They are like to drive me mad. I know of you because my father told me who you were before I was sent for you. You were gone far longer than you thought, young one: at least two hours or more."

I blink and think 'I was staring that long?' as we move through several more passageweays and into a spare guestroom before she releases me and begins rifling through the drawers.

I never would have written such appalling characters. Purple hair? That isn't even realistic.

"Repeat what you just said."

Oops. Did I say that out loud? I'm taken aback at the sudden concentrated look on her face, "Purple hair? That isn't even--"

"No," Arwen says almost irritably, "Before that."

I grimace as I catch what she's thrown at me, "I never would have written such appalling characters? Oh, damn, Arwen, I never should have said that--"

Elrond's daughter waves a hand at me, "It's alright. Just change. You write stories?"

After I wash the worst of the grime off of me (Elven bathrooms are _amazing_), I unfold the clothes and start to put them on.

I shrug from within the folds of the robes that she's given me, "Yes. Based on other worlds, like this one. I have a story of my own creation planned soon, but I wanted to finish the earlier stories I was writing first."

"Other worlds?"

I hit my head with my palm as Arwen laces the undergarments and and hands me the dress, "_Goddammnit_, I shouldn't have said that ei--" I spot the dress, "No. No way. Arwen, it's lovely, but it's not functional."

"Of course it is functional."

"Is not," I yelp as someone hits me in the head with a pillow, "Is too. How the hell do you think they got me into one?"

I gasp and whirl to see one of my best friends behind me, "Sarai? What are you doing here?"

"Well, thanks for the welcome. Just don't even look at me."

I gape in absolute shock and don't even react when Arwen drapes the dark aqua dress over my head, "Caydee? What the hell is going on here?"

Both of them shrug, "We don't know. We got here when Arwen over there rode in with Frodo. Sarai was writing in her journal and I was at my computer texting her and then boom, we were here," Sarai says with a shrug.

Oh, shit. Crap. This is bad.

"Guys," I say slowly as Arwen sticks my arms through the sleeves, "We're going to destroy canon. We've got to get the heck out of here."

"No duh, sherlock," my friends come inside, shut the door, and flop themselves on the chairs near the bed. Caydee has curly brownish-red hair, green eyes, and is shorter than me by about four inches. Sarai is as tall as me with straight dark brown-blonde hair and also has green eyes. I've known them for about five years and we've become extremely close.

Someone knocked at the door and Arwen, once she's finished fussing, goes to answer it. I point at her and mouth "isn't she awesome?" and my friends nod emphatically.

One of the twins (I later learned his name was Elrohir and he was the more serious one) pokes his head in the doorway over Arwen's shoulder, "Lady Emily, Elrond wants to see you."

I slump over carefully (why do Elvish dress necklines have to be so _wide_?) and sigh. Both of my best friends pat me on the back and Caydee says reassuringly, "Don't worry about it. We both met with him already--you should be fine. Just don't do anything or say anything to spectacularly stupid. We'll wait for you outside, okay?"

"Fine."

Lord, this was going to be interesting.

I grin to myself as I step outside and take Elrohir's arm.

Boy, elves sure are studly.

"What are you thinking about?"

I jump at the twin's question while my best friends and Arwen snicker behind me, "Um. That elves are attractive?"

"Well," Elrohir says with a smirk, "Of course we are. We are the First Born, youngling, though I wouldn't expect you to know that, being only in your---?"

"I'm seventeen."

"--your teens."

Man. Even his smirk is yummylicious.

-------~~~~~~~--------

You know how I said that Elrohir is the more serious one? Note that I said '_more _serious'.

You may want to store this as something important later on, children.

------~~~~~~~--------

With my friends waiting outside (Arwen and Elrohir wandered off somewhere, I don't know. Arwen was probably meeting with her other brother or something) I knock nervously on the door and open it when I hear permission to come inside.

I relax when I see only Aragorn , Gandalf, and Elrond. Sure, they're scary on occasion, but since I knew they were good, I didn't worry about them killing me where I stood.

Thank heaven that I didn't suddenly appear in Mordor.

_That _would have been interesting.

Anyway, back to the conversation...

"Please, sit, Lady Emily," I shake my head and grip the back of the chair securely,"I'd rather stand."

"Why?" Gandalf asks.

"I'm more comfortable standing and I assume you want me relaxed enough to answer your questions," I wince. Good job, Emily. Just make it blaringly obvious that you don't trust them, huh?

Note: Elves (and, reluctantly,Aragorn) are studly, but still scary.

"Emily. Sit. Down."

That was Aragorn-I'm-Awesome-Because-Using-My-Kingly-Voice.

I sat.

"Very good," Elrond says with a faint smile, "Now, please tell us what has happened to you up to this point."

I sigh, "Fine."

I go through the whole spiel to the three of the them and answer any of their questions--the only emotion that Elrond seems to express is when I (1) Appeared to Aragorn and (2) Saw the Mary-Sue and Gary-Stu. Both Gandalf and Aragorn look inscrutable.

Then we got to talking about my friends.

"So, you do know the two of them?" I nod cautiously, "So do you also know why you are here?"

I shake my head. I don't want to talk any more. My voice is tired.

"You're a writer?"

I confirm that statement with another nod, "Well, then. It seems we have a predicament if you are right, child."

"Emily," I correct tiredly, "Just Emily. Yes, I know what's going to happen to you all and so do my friends but _we can't tell you_ because we'll screw up the timeline even more. Isn't the Council supposed to form after Frodo awakens?"

The shocked looks on their faces is comical and I chortle, "I told you. Now, I don't know how to get back since I don't know how I got here, but Gandalf, you're welcome to think of something if you like. Or, of course, you have other resources."

The Grey Wizard raises a caterpillar of an eyebrow, "Really."

I roll my eyes, "Yeah. Duh. Of course you do. We know what you are through the books, Olorin."

Gandalf looks like I hit him with a two-by-four and I just sigh.

"Can I go now?"

Elrond waves his hand at me before turning to his friend and I smile and start whistling before exiting.

-----~~~~~-----

Well. That was exciting.

What the heck did I just do?

Caydee's gonna kill me.

-----~~~~~-----

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**How was that? Not as bad?**

**I'm sorry the chapters aren't spectacular--I'm warming up to this fandom and the chapters will improve as the story goes on; I promise!**

**Constructive criticism only, please!**

**Review review review!**

**Thanks,**

**Ice**

**PS: I kinda forgot----I need a beta. I look at the different profiles and there's a couple of people I want to ask, except I don't know how to request one. Do I send a PM? How does it work? Thanks again.  
**


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